


Strike A Pose

by XxTwistedEverAfterxX



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nude Modeling, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:59:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2785841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxTwistedEverAfterxX/pseuds/XxTwistedEverAfterxX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred had never been overly shy... Until he had met Matthew. Matthew in his nude glory posing for his art class. Matthew made out of marble like some god before him. Matthew who he had the biggest crush on, and all he could do was draw pictures and sketches and admire from afar. Art pieces weren't meant to be touched, after all, but Alfred was deeply tempted. For now, all he would do was draw in the hopes to be noticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strike A Pose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleRedHood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRedHood/gifts).



> Thank you so much to wolfsban for sending this prompt in! The prompt was: Secret Admirer. I periodically open up fanfic prompts and requests on my Tumblr, and this is one of those! This was so fun to write, oh gosh, it was 100% super cute! So I really hope you enjoy this “meant to be 800 words but accidentally turned into 2000 words” fic! Here’s a sweet “drabble” of Art Student!Alfred and his big crush on the Nude Model!Matthew who frequently poses for his life drawings class. I hope you enjoy it!! Smooch smooch!!

There he was again, and just like that, Alfred’s heart was skipping beats, his mind was forming poetry, his hand and pencil were poised on his paper ready to create a masterpiece, and nothing intelligent was coming out of his mouth. In fact, nothing was coming from his mouth. The rest of the students around him were all murmuring, turning pages in their notepads to a clean blank sheet for the new model that was stepping up to the block in the centre of the room, clad in only a fluffy navy robe with the art school’s emblem embroidered on the left breast.  
  
Matthew Williams, a nude model, young and handsome and Alfred was so infatuated.  
  
It had started on the first day of art school, when Alfred was uncertain about having strangers strip and then pose naked before him, but then Matthew had shown up, still clothed and spoken to him, caught wind of his nervousness, and comforted him. It was only when he revealed his body before the class that Alfred’s nerves restarted and shot up through the roof, unaware of how handsome and purely _gorgeous_  Matthew was beneath his loose fitting clothing.  
  
Months later, that same nervousness of nudity still reared its head, but only before Matthew. It was hard to sketch him while he was in the nude, when all Alfred found that he could picture was sharing a milkshake together from a single tall glass and two long, curly straws, or snuggling up before the glow of the television whilst wrapped in a single fluffy blanket and playing with each other’s feet. But it was made difficult for him when the object of his secret desires was stripping before him, draping his robe over a nearby chair and presenting himself in all of his naked glory, bare as the day he was born.  
  
Taking his position, Matthew posed, one hand splayed on his stomach, the other behind his head, elbow pointed upwards to the ceiling, his cheek resting against his bicep as his gaze flitted down below him. His back arched, and he pointed a single foot out, balancing neatly between the tips of his toes on that foot, and the ball of the other, in a stance that would surely have caused Alfred to whine and moan within seconds, yet Matthew held it with grace.  
  
Pencils scratched at paper, and Alfred too got to work—he only had five minutes with this pose, after all, so he drew what he saw.  
  
Long limbs, toned and beautiful, unmarked of any scars; his torso narrow at the hips and waist but stretching to masculine shoulders curved with a touch of femininity; his prominent collarbone and Adam’s Apple that seemed to be carved straight from marble; his defined jaw line softened by his hair and his long lashed violet eyes.  
  
Unintentionally, he always presented Matthew as a god. In all of his art pieces, the Canadian male would be sketched with a lithe power, an air of authority and grace and dignity, and Alfred would fall that little bit more in love with his model. He wasn’t built like Hercules, but he wasn’t a twig either; toned muscles and a tight body, enough bulge to accentuate the swell but not enough to be obvious without flexing or tensing. His curly blond hair was probably like silk, Alfred was sure of it from the way it shone and fluffed lightly and fluttered so easily like it weighed nothing. His milky skin was probably soft and so pliable, and he would need to be so careful to not leave behind marks on something so untainted…  
  
“Oh wow, this is wonderful!”  
  
Alfred jolted upwards, grasping to his notebook, pens, pencils and erasers clattering to the ground as his knee jarred his easel, a tittering laugh falling by his ear, making him look up sharply.  
  
“You were so lost in concentration, you kept drawing even after I stepped down, and I got curious,” Matthew hummed, robe wrapped around his body comfortably, hands pressed to his knees as he bent down, peering over Alfred’s shoulder at the elaborate sketch of him posing, “This is a lot of detail for five minutes. You’re really good.”  
  
Large glasses sliding down Alfred’s nose, he laughed sheepishly, pushing them back up with the backs of his knuckles, looking down a little awkwardly.  
  
“Uh, thanks, thank you. I get carried away sometimes when I’m inspired, y’know? You just give me all these great ideas,” Alfred replied with a nervous chuckle, looking up at Matthew again, grasping to the sketchpad with sweaty palms, “You really know how to strike and hold an interesting pose.”  
  
“I try,” Matthew joked, violet eyes studying the picture, “Would you mind if I had a look at the other pictures too?”  
  
Shaking his head, Alfred shut the notepad, holding it out as silent permission, their fingers brushing as Matthew accepted it with a hum of thanks, opening the cover and beginning to look through. He was silent as he did so, eyes appreciative and scrutinising each fine detail, every pencil stroke, every penned line, every splotch of black ink and watercolour and coloured hue. His fingers were soft, just like Alfred imagined, calloused at the pads much to his surprise, but his nails were smooth and the backs of his fingers were like silk. Up close, it was easier to see the colours of his eyes, and Alfred studied them in brief flickers from the corner of his own at the edge of his glasses, picking up his dropped utensils as he did, occupying his hands.  
  
“These are wonderful, but I don’t remember posing for some of these,” Matthew spoke up, voice soft and gentle, and Alfred immediately tensed up.  
  
 _Shit_. Shit, shit,  _shit_. Some of his sketches from home were in that book; the sketches of Matthew being imagined in ugly sweaters with a mug of hot chocolate by a snowing window, of Matthew smiling brightly at a beach scene with a martini and a broad brimmed hat, of Matthew asleep in bed curled up to dozens of fluffy pillows and looking peaceful.  
  
“I—Wait, I can—I can explain Matthew!” Alfred choked out, looking urgently to the Canadian, expecting to find disgust and have his notepad shoved back into his hands, or the pages torn. That would devastate him, to see his hard work ruined, destroyed, his heart ripped apart all because he was careless about where he drew his fantasies and longings.  
  
Matthew held out a hand, the notepad in his lap, turned to a new, blank page.  
  
“Would you mind terribly if I drew something here too?” Matthew asked, tilting his head, smiling kindly, “I’m no artist like you, but I like to do it from time to time for fun.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Well, that had been eloquently put. Matthew giggled, the sound low but sweet, and his cheeks coloured a soft pink while Alfred’s were a bright red, violet eyes crinkling cat like at the corners as his smile grew. His eyes were almond shaped, large and his lashes a dark blond, and he looked almost deceptively cute with the way his tear ducts sharpened with his smile.  
  
“Could I borrow a pencil? I’d like to draw something for you,” Matthew explained, “If that’s okay, that is.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, it’s—yeah go for it, Mattie—Matthew.  _Matthew_.”  
  
“Mattie,” he repeated, smiling, “I like that. You can call me that; it’s fine.”  
  
“Mattie,” Alfred echoed, breathless, adjusting his glasses up higher on his nose, smiling, “Okay. You can.”  
  
Handing over a sharpened pencil, Matthew gave him a nod before he slid into a spare seat beside him and began to sketch, the scratching of the pencil making Alfred’s head angle to try and see, only for Matthew’s work to be hidden with a playful “Ah-ah! Not yet!” and an angling of the notepad. Alfred smiled, deciding to occupy himself by packing up his belongings, allowing Matthew to work, catching violet eyes flickering up to him occasionally, only making him blush that little bit harder. Reaching to his backpack, he stuffed away his utensils, pulling out his glasses case and cracked it open, pulling out his smaller rectangular lenses with thin frames, sliding the larger, thicker framed ones from his nose and folding them up.  
  
“Oh—those aren’t your regular glasses?”  
  
Alfred blinked owlishly, looking at Matthew as he shook his head, sliding on the thinner framed ones.  
  
“They’re just for art class, ‘cause they let me see more clearly, and I don’t really care if they get some paint on them,” Alfred explained, adjusting his smaller framed glasses before he packed up his other ones, “These are my regular glasses. They’re less bulky and don’t fall down my nose as much.”  
  
Matthew hummed out his acknowledgement, gaze dropping back to Alfred’s sketchbook as he gently erased something, only to continue working. It was this way in silence for a while, Alfred sitting with a hunched over back, fiddling with his fingers, listening to the other art students chattering as they finished off their sketches and planned ideas for the next big project. The life drawings class was over, so they had time to relax a little. Not that Alfred was relaxed, tense and awaiting to see what Matthew was drawing, working so silently and diligently on. He didn’t have to wait too long before Matthew let out a soft sound of satisfaction, only to laugh.  
  
“Well, it’s nothing like yours. I didn’t want to make you wait too long, but I did the best that I could,” he chuckled, placing the pencil down as he studied the page, “But, maybe, if you want, I’d like to do this pose for you next.”  
  
Alfred blinked, looking down as the notebook was turned over, only to blush brightly. It wasn’t a deeply detailed sketch, but it was enough to get the message across. Matthew knew how to draw, and his anatomy was lovely, but that wasn’t what he was focused on. In the picture, it was distinctly the two of them, walking together through a trove of trees, or perhaps a park, hands held together and fingers laced, while in the other hand they clutched onto ice-creams. They were smiling brightly in the picture, leaning in close together, and it almost looked like they could kiss. Face a dark red atop the sun kissed skin, Alfred swallowed thickly, looking up to the Canadian who was flushed a dark pink, rubbing at the back of his hand, looking expectantly to the American.  
  
“You wear glasses too, Mattie?”  
  
Whatever he’d wanted to say first, it hadn’t been that, but it had caught him completely off guard that Matthew had drawn himself with thin framed rounded glasses in the picture of himself. The Canadian looked briefly surprised before laughing and nodding, tapping beneath his eye.  
  
“Yeah, I wear contacts to your life drawing classes because the teachers requested that. It’s easier to add details than try to imagine them away,” he explained, licking his lips nervously, “But, if you don’t mind, I’d like to wear my glasses for that pose… If you’d like to do it, that is.”  
  
Eyebrows knitting, Alfred looked up at Matthew over the frames of his glasses, voice dropping low.  
  
“Are you askin’ me out on an ice-cream date?”  
  
“Would you like to go on one with me?”  
  
Alfred beamed, straightening up as he glanced down at his notepad, tracing the lines of their faces, of their imaginary future smiles, of the ice-cream in their hands that looked slightly melted like they were hardly paying attention to the sweet cold treat. Alfred wouldn’t be—he’d be gazing affectionately and happily at the man at his side, just like in the picture.  
  
“Yeah,” Alfred breathed, nodding eagerly as he looked back up at Matthew, “Yeah. Let’s make this pose together.”


End file.
